gown, bundles of letters tied with blue silk ribbon, a huge family Bible, a child's crayon drawings of landscapes and
people, signed laboriously with the name James Winn, and photographs, some in cardboard frames bordered by hearts
and doves.
Ben spread these on the carpet and studied them. "Hmm, what a handsome couple. Young Lieutenant Winn and
his fiancee, Winifred, taken on the seafront at Brighton. Some wedding photographs, a picture of this house with Miz
Winn standing in the garden. Here's another of them both with a baby carriage that must have been taken when their
son Jim was born. Winnie wasn't joking when she said there were lots of memories here. What d'you think, Ned?"
The Labrador turned over a packet of letters with his nose. "Shall we take a look at these? There's lots of 'em."
Ben shook his head. "No, they're love letters from when the captain and Winnie were courting. We don't want to
pry into personal things like that. They're far too private." He set the letters to one side. "Well, I think we'd better take
a look in the desk. There doesn't seem to be anything that can help us here."
Ned gazed reprovingly at his friend. "Except the Bible!"
Ben did not catch his dog's drift for a moment. "The Bible?"
The Labrador placed his paw on the volume. "Aye, Ben, the good book—every family should have one. Good
for the spirit, a great source of scripture, and usually a book where family records are kept." Sometimes Ned's
knowledge of things was as surprising as his own.
Ben needed both hands to lift the huge Moroccan leather-bound family heirloom. "Of course! The family Bible.
Good old Ned!"
The dog stretched out and yawned. "Good old Ned indeed, where'd you be without me?"
The boy placed the hefty tome upon the desk, smiling fondly at the big black dog. "Probably drowned off Cape
Horn!"
It was a magnificent Bible, with a stained silver clasp holding it shut, faded gold-edged pages, and woven silk
place markers. Ben dusted off the cover with his sleeve, undid the clasp, and opened the ancient volume. On the inside
cover was a hand-sketched angel, bearing a scroll written in gothic script.
"This Bible belongs to the Lord and the family of Winn. Blessed are those who trust in the Lord and live by His
word."
Ben leafed carefully through the yellowed pages. Apart from beautiful illuminated verse headings and several
colorful illustrations, there was nothing out of the ordinary. At the back of the book, he discovered a number of pages,
some blank and others filled in by different hands over the centuries. Details recorded of births, deaths, and marriages
provided an almost complete lineage of the Winns for several hundred years.
Ben read some of the details aloud.
"Listen to this, Ned. 'Edmond De Winn wedded to Evelyn Crowley. 1655. Lord deliver us from the plague of
Black Death. 1665. A son, christened Charles in honor of our King. 1669. A daughter christened Eleanor.' It says here
that Edmond fathered more daughters, Winefride, Charity, Gwendoline, and three others.
"Poor old Edmond, eh, Ned, a son and seven daughters. Quite a few mouths to feed." Ben closed the giant book.
"This doesn't seem to be getting us anywhere."
The dog leapt up. Placing his front paws on the desk, he began frantically nosing at the Bible beneath Ben's
hand. "What's the matter, boy?" Ben tried to push him away. "What'll Miz Winn say if you slobber all over her family
Bible?"
But the dog persisted, sending out urgent thoughts. "The back of the book! I could see it from where I was lying.
The back, Ben. Down inside the spine, something's there!"
Ben quickly shut the book and stood it on edge. He peered down the space between the spine and the pages.
"You're right. It looks like a folded paper. Wait!" He took an ivory pair of chopsticks (one of the captain's souvenirs)
and delicately fished the object out.
As Ben carefully unfolded the paper, the black dog looked on. "A piece of torn parchment, with two tiny holes
burned in it. There's some wording on it. Read it, Ben, read it!"
The boy scanned the writing awhile. "It starts off strangely. Listen: 'Re, keep safe for the house of De Winn thy
treasure.' "
Ned's tail wagged furiously. "Treasure! I think we're on the right track. But what does 're' mean?"
Ben continued staring at the scrap of parchment. "That's where the parchment was torn. 'Re' is probably the end
two letters of a longer word. But well done to you for spotting this in the Bible's spine."
Ned's tail wagged. "Hah! Who said horses were man's best friend? What about us dogs, eh, shipmate?"
Ben put the parchment down. He leapt upon the big dog and wrestled him all over the floor, knowing this was
his favorite sport, but the Labrador got the better of Ben. Pinning him to the carpet, he began licking his face. "What
other way can your poor hound serve you, O master?"
Ben giggled as the dog's tongue tickled his ear. "You can let me up, you great, sloppy hound!"
Though they searched high and low, there were no other clues to be found. It was late by the time Ben had
tidied the room up and put everything back in its place. He folded the torn parchment and put it in his pocket. "Well,
at least that's a start, though I don't know what the message means, or the two burnt holes in the paper. But it's
something definite to begin with. Let's hope we can solve the problem before time runs out for Miz Winn and
Chapelvale. Right, mate, bed for us, I'll just go to the bathroom and wash my face."
Ned looked indignantly at Ben. "But I just washed your face for you a moment ago, there's base ingratitude for
you!"
The blue-eyed boy gave his dog a glance of mock severity. "One more word out of you and I'll wash your face
for you, with soap and a scrubbing brush!"
20.
SUNDAY MORNING, BEN ACCOMPANIED MIZ Winn to church services, dressed in his new clothes. He
felt rather self-conscious in the new outfit, his unruly hair wetted and brushed into a part. The black Labrador had
stayed home to keep Horatio company. Mrs. Winn brought her walking stick, as it was quite a walk to the church on
top of the hill. At the churchyard gate they met up with Alex and Amy Somers, together with their parents. Mrs. Winn
knew the Somerses, and she stood and chatted with them.
Alex caught Ben staring up at the spire, looking rather nervous. "It's only a church steeple, Ben, what are you
looking for?"
There was a trace of perspiration on Ben's forehead, and his face was slightly pale as he answered. "The bell,
has this church got a bell?" Mr. Braithwaite wandered close by, still in his scholarly gown. He scratched his frizzy
hair as he peered over his glasses. "Er, what's that? Oh, a bell y'say, hmmm? 'Fraid not, young er, er, fellow. The, er,
bell of St. Peter's church was, er, donated to the cause by the clergy and parishioners during the, er, er, Napoleonic
Wars. Yes, hmmm, indeed, to make armaments for the Duke of, er, Wellington's army. Bell metal, useful stuff, very
good very good!"
The feeling of whirling waters, angel voices, and the Flying Dutchman out somewhere plowing the misty main
passed. Ben felt an immediate surge of relief. At least he did not have to worry about a church with a mute belltower.
Amy tugged his sleeve to go inside, the service was starting.
St. Peter's, for all its size, was comparatively small inside. Beneath the arched wood ceiling, supported by eight
plain limestone columns, were two main aisles. There was an odor of lavender furniture polish on the benches,